


Cold Tea

by RambleRoad



Series: Petals in the Wind [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/M, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-23 13:36:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20009158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RambleRoad/pseuds/RambleRoad
Summary: A collection of connected one-shots progressing through the ARR storyline that showcases the plight of the Doman refugees, the willingness of the Warrior of Light and the Scions to help them, and the slowly-growing yet complicated relationship between the Warrior of Light and the mysterious leader of the refugees whose lives he's determined to help rebuild.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My first foray into FFXIV fics. Yugiri's my favorite character in the game, bar none, and the amount of work on here featuring her is borderline criminal, in my opinion. So I decided to just do it myself. Don't really have an update schedule at the moment, just feeling out the chapters as I write them. That said, I'm hoping to do this collection of one-shots to cover ARR, a bit more of a cohesive narrative for Heavensward, and then a full-fledged piece for Stormblood, since that's obviously where most of the Yugiri/WoL stuff can take place. Slight divergences from canon in overall world details, obviously large divergences in the relationship between Yugiri and the WoL. Hope you enjoy, and please leave a comment letting me know if you do!
> 
> Rated M for now, good chance of Explicit later on, though maybe not in this first piece in the series. We'll see how it goes, and I'll warn at the beginning of any chapter that might contain that kind of content. Enjoy!

**\- 1 -**

The afternoon heat seemed to hang over the Sapphire Avenue Exchange like an oppressive blanket, its deadening tendrils seeping easily through steel armor and cloth shirts alike, and Sorin Korasta winced as he stepped away from a hawker’s stall, accidentally turning directly into the sun’s harsh light. He held a gauntleted hand up to defend his eyes from its rays, grumbling lightly to himself as he navigated the crowds of people that milled about the pathway. He hated Ul’dah, he decided, and what’s more he was almost certain that he had _always_ hated Ul’dah. Yes, that seemed very accurate, now that he paid the idea some thought, and his face unconsciously twisted up in a scowl as he moved along the avenue. 

At least back home, hot days could be well-remedied by a dip in the nearby sea, or a delicious alcoholic concoction under the cooling, shade-plentiful embrace of a large parasol. He sighed thinking of Limsa, only becoming more irritated when the act didn’t bring the smell of salt water and freshly-caught fish surging into his nose. It was a sensation he well and truly missed, and while Gridania had been fine enough while he’d been there for his training, he well and truly _hated_ Ul’dah. A slight chime in his ear pulled Sorin’s attention away from his musings about what fantastical cocktail the bartenders at Costa del Sol would come up with next, and he sighed, much louder this time, raising a finger to tap at the communication device as he looked up at the large timepiece that hung over the avenue, squinting his eyes to get a good read on it before speaking.

“It’s been twenty-seven minutes,” he jabbed with as little warmth as he could muster. “Is Eorzea going to come to a screaming, calamitous end in the twenty-seven minutes I’ve been gone, or are you perhaps overreacting to whatever new problem into which you’ve chosen to bury yourself?” He had told the Scions he was heading out into the city in the wake of the small amount of downtime they’d been surprised to have drop into their laps. They had all agreed to take a bit of a personal day, and so Sorin knew without a doubt who the one person would be that would break that unspoken rule of leaving each other the hells alone on a personal day. 

The annoying little elezen boy, for Sorin had yet to see it proven that he was truly anything but, seemed to think the lance-wielding hyur as somewhat of a pet, the kind to follow orders and be all too happy to jump at the opportunity. It was an attitude that was quickly grating on Sorin, and he never missed an opportunity to express that irritation, much to the chagrin of the more diplomatically-minded members of the Scions. Sorin Korasta was many things, but a diplomat was not among that list. If Sorin liked a person, he made sure they knew; and if Sorin disliked a person, he ensured the pointy end of his lance made the fact known clearly on his behalf. It wasn’t a complicated system, and he quite frankly failed to understand why it wouldn’t work for anyone else. A small silence seemed as though it would be the only answer to his verbal barb for a long moment, and then Sorin heard Alphinaud clear his throat delicately and reply.

“ _I highly doubt it, though your irritation is made quite clear and, for what it may be worth, I_ do _apologize for disturbing you. Still, a rather important occurrence has taken place, and I should be appreciative of your insight into the matter, if you’ve time to spare._ ”

Sorin had continued walking through the crowd, but at that, he stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes widening slightly in surprise before he felt a rough _thump_ against his calves, followed by a loud crashing. He spun in place just in time to catch the last of the many crates that had been tumbling through the air, right before it landed on the head of the unfortunate lallafel who had collided with him.

“Ah shite,” Sorin muttered, placing the box delicately on the ground before leaning over to extend a hand to the man. He was flustered, but seemed more confused than anything else, his large bushy moustache twitching as he took Sorin’s hand and was hauled to his feet. “Sorry about that, friend. Are you alright?” The lallafel seemed to regain his bearings then, and quite hurriedly fretted over the various boxes and crates before calming visibly.

“Just fine, thank you. And you’re hardly to blame, sir. If I hadn’t been carrying these crates four-high I might actually have been able to see what lay right in front of me.” He smirked at the end, and Sorin returned the gesture.

“All the same, I’ll attempt to be a bit more aware in the future.” He turned back around to walk away, sharing a wave with the man before returning his mind to what Alphinaud had said. An apology, flat-out and with no ambiguity...whatever he had on his hands, the boy must think it important indeed if he’d go out of his way to _avoid_ a verbal sparring match with Sorin. Seeming to sense the pause in the line, Alphinaud spoke again.

“ _Are you still there?_ ”

“What? Yea, I’m still here. I bumped into someone in the avenue; literally, not figuratively. It’s not important. What’s this thing you need me for?” Across the linkpearl, he could hear Alphinaud huff an indignant sigh, and a mischievous grin slipped onto Sorin’s features as he ducked off the main road and into an alley. It was so easy to push Alphinaud’s buttons, and so rewarding besides.

“ _I didn’t say I_ needed _you for it, just that your insight would be appreciated._ ”

“Semantics,” he shot back. “Just tell me about the thing, Alphinaud.”

“ _It would be easier to have it told to you by one who knows more about the situation than I do.”_ Alphinaud stopped speaking to Sorin directly, though his brow furrowed as he heard the elezen speaking with someone else on his end of the line, returning after a moment. “ _Sorin, could you join us at the Quicksand? There’s someone I need you to meet in order to get a better understanding of the situation._ ” Sorin rolled his eyes; it could never just be easy with Alphinaud.

“Sure, I’ll be there in a short while. Order me a drink if you get there first.”

“ _Order you a…? Sorin, I don’t even know wh--”_ Alphinaud’s voice faded as Sorin closed the linkpearl channel, chuckling to himself as he followed the alley away from the Exchange. He imagined the look on the elezen’s face had been priceless, and only hoped that whomever he’d been speaking with had been given the chance to truly enjoy it.

* * *

“Sorin, I don’t even know what drinks you like, what could _possibly_ make you think that I would know what to…you’ve disconnected already, haven’t you?” the young man paused for a long moment, then almost growled in irritation, his face twisting up into a sort of indignant confusion. Behind her mask, Yugiri Mistwalker stifled the laugh that threatened to spill out of her after having seen it. After a moment, she composed herself.

“Master Alphinaud, I do not mean to cast doubt on your judgment, but are you _quite_ sure this person is your friend?” Beside her, the young elezen sighed, running a hand through his hair in exasperation before giving her an apologetic smile.

“Yes, I’m sure, Lady Yugiri; I apologize for you having to overhear that. Sorin has a bit of an...acquired personality. And I’ll not pretend he hasn’t been under extreme amounts of pressure as of late, so of course he was never bound to be pleased by my interruption of his respite. But despite that, he’s an honorable man. I’m sure he will pay you every courtesy, even if he seldom affords me the same.” Yugiri grinned beneath her hood, leaning in a bit closer to continue.

“From my admittedly-limited perspective, I rather think he simply enjoys coaxing a reaction out of you.” The elezen chuckled in reply, then extended a hand to gesture her along the path. They began to walk together once more, a few passersby giving Yugiri curious looks, but nothing alarming. That was good, it meant her outfit was serving its purpose. Her tail twitched slightly, but pressed into her trousers and tied delicately to her left leg, the gesture wasn’t enough to be noticeable. Beside her, Alphinaud talked at length about the history of the nation and its people while Yugiri looked around her at the state of things. To a common traveler, the city might appear resplendent, the many market stalls and busy populace giving the place a feel of bustle and purpose. But Yugiri’s eyes sought out the oft-overlooked, peering into alleyways and the dark spaces around them, seeing the huddled masses there, the wanting hands and mouths. She saw the city for what it truly was: a chasm on one side of which stood the wealthy elite, and on the other the destitute and broken. A twisting feeling began to form in the pit of her stomach as they continued on toward the tavern. Her people were, at the moment, firmly in the latter of the two groups, and Yugiri worried that even should this sultana offer aid to the Doman refugees, perhaps their lives would not be much better than those of the poor souls she spied in the forgotten corners of the city.

The worry continued to gnaw at her, keeping her quiet as they walked. She would occasionally hum thoughtfully or nod along at something the young man beside her would say, but her mind remained occupied with a seemingly impossible task to handle, and she wondered not for the first time why Lord Hien had thought _her_ the best to handle it. She was no diplomat, no spokesperson for the masses; she was a scout and an assassin, much as she loathed the latter term itself. Regardless, she had not the skills to perform this task, but in light of few other choices available to him at the time...she shook her head slightly at her own thoughts. Lord Hien had believed in her, had chosen her specifically, there _must_ have been a reason for it. Their slowing pace brought her out of her thoughts as Alphinaud reached out to open one of a large pair of doors, the sound of ambient conversation and laughter drifting out into the daytime air. She followed him into the establishment, silently thankful for the relent of the oppressive heat, and stopped abruptly when she heard the young man scoff loudly in astonishment.

“You might have mentioned you were already here when we spoke on the linkpearl!” he called out to a man seated some few yalms away. For his part, the man was already smirking at Alphinaud’s irritation, and Yugiri looked him over as she followed the elezen over to the table. He seemed a taller man, even seated, with close-cut hair and a well-trimmed beard and moustache. His skin was slightly tan, though she couldn’t tell at first glance if that was his natural tone or if he’d simply spent too much time in the oppressive sunlight outside. His eyes were a deep green, and they glinted with mirth at having prodded the young man once again, the small smirk displaying a small scar on the right side of his face. It ran vertically through his lips, a memento of both the top and bottom having been split rather badly some long time ago. He replied then, his voice deep, yet quiet, a sound that reminded her of Lord Hien when he considered something very grave or important, and it brought a warmth of familiarity to her chest that put a small smile on her face, obscured though it might have been.

“I was nearby already when you called.” Alphinaud sputtered, slumping into a chair across from him with a huff, even as the man stood from his own, a look of annoyance replacing the smile.

“The Exchange is hardly right next door, Sorin. It’s practically across the entire city.” Sorin walked around the table, shrugging at the young elezen.

“I suppose it doesn’t really matter when one has access to the aetheryte network.” He replied with a smile. “But really, where are your manners, Alphinaud?” He closed with Yugiri, whose mind was already racing at potential defensive stances to take in order to ward off an attack that did not come. Instead, he reached out and gripped the back of the chair in front of her, pulling it out and gesturing to it with his free hand. “Apologies, my lady. Our dear Alphinaud has the regrettable trait of forgetting his manners when he gets flustered.” She smiled back at him, nodding and taking the seat.

“My thanks,” she replied quietly, and he nodded back to her before returning to his seat. Beside her, the young elezen’s cheeks were red as he stared into the table’s surface.

“Yes, my apologies as well,” he mumbled, embarrassed. After a moment, he seemed to let it go, taking a breath before lifting his eyes and speaking once again. “Lady Yugiri, may I introduce Sorin Korasta; a fellow Scion of the Seventh Dawn and the Warrior of Light.” Yugiri bowed her head to the man, who smiled in reply. It was not the mischievous smirk he’d so frequently given Alphinaud in the time she’d been in his presence, but a genuine one, and as if infectious it brought a small smile to her lips as well. He leaned over the table slightly to whisper.

“Also a _notorious_ card cheat, and I’ve been told by reputable sources that I make a not-terrible cup of coffee.” He leaned back then and waved a hand. “But sure, Warrior of Light, Scion, the boring stuff too.” He shot Alphinaud a wink, the young man simply sighing in reply, and Yugiri’s smile deepened for a moment. She’d known this man for all of three minutes, but he simply had a way of putting the people around him at ease. Well, save for Alphinaud, who coughed lightly and continued.

“Right. Ah, Sorin, this is Lady Yugiri of Doma.” Sorin’s smile slipped then, his face turning into a mask of light confusion.

“Doma?” he repeated, “I daresay you’re a long way from home, my lady.” Yugiri felt her own smile fade then, her shoulders drooping slightly as she met his concerned gaze from behind her mask.

“Such as it is,” she all but whispered. “We have traveled several thousand malms across the sea, in hopes that we might find sanctuary in these lands. Until recently, Doma was under the dominion of the Garlean Empire.” She paused for a moment, gesturing to Alphinaud. “As I am sure you are aware.”

“Yes, all of Othard seems to share that same status, as of late,” the boy replied quietly. Yugiri glanced over to Sorin, waiting for the witty barb or jab, but instead found the man staring across at her, one arm folded across his midsection while the other hand brushed idly at his chin. His eyes had changed entirely from just moments before, and bore into her with a focus that left her feeling exposed, though not altogether in an uncomfortable way. She commanded the entirety of his attention, if briefly, and it reassured her to have a perfect stranger care so very much about what she had to say. She took a breath and continued.

“When the war of succession broke out in Garlemald, we espied an opportunity to free ourselves from the yoke of imperial oppression, and took up arms...only to be crushed. And so I…” she paused then, considering her company. Some few Domans had offered to escort her when she’d left their ship in Vesper Bay, but she had politely declined. She was no princess or grand emissary to warrant retainers of any fashion, but at the moment she regretted not looking that exact part. Should she reveal Lord Hien’s involvement, her desperate plea for aid could well be misconstrued as a political maneuver. Would these Scions still be interested in helping her if it meant a public display of support for her entire nation? She cursed herself internally for a moment, politics having confounded her once more, and decided on the smallest of lies. “I gathered what few Domans escaped the reckoning, and guided them hither to your shores.” Her pause seemed to go unnoticed by Alphinaud, who had perked up at her mention of the Empire.

“A war of succession? Then the emperor is...forgive me, this is exceptionally new information for us. The implications of the emperor’s absence…” he continued speaking, but Yugiri failed to truly hear him, her attention behind the mask having returned to Sorin. The man sat across the table and still looked at her intently, but his eyes had narrowed. 

It was the slightest gesture, but one that was not lost on the shinobi. He had caught her hesitation, the pause in her statement; he knew she had lied to them. She swallowed slightly, nodding along to what Alphinaud was saying while still watching Sorin. For all his carefree front, the man was clearly far more perceptive than he let on, a fact Yugiri filed away to remember in later interactions...if there _would_ be any later interactions. He could just as easily call her on the deceit right then and there, and she would be back to having no opportunity to help her people. The very thought sent waves of guilt through her, and she brought a hand unconsciously to rest against her stomach, fruitlessly attempting to temper it with physical touch. She saw Sorin’s eyes flit to her hand for a moment, and his expression softened a bit. He cleared his throat loudly, interrupting Alphinaud’s rambling diatribe.

“Alphinaud, we can worry about that later,” Sorin said quietly. Gone was the mirthful tone from earlier, replaced instead with one of...anger? Or was it concern? Yugiri couldn’t tell, and her eyes narrowed in consternation as he continued, meeting her gaze levelly. “What of Doma? You said it _was_ under the Empire’s dominion.” The silence hung in the air, his gaze holding hers intently as she sighed, lowering her head slightly at the pain that accompanied the memory.

“Doma is gone...razed to the ground as an example to the other provinces.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Sorin swore harshly, and her eyes darted back up to see his, widening as realization washed over her. He was angry, furious even, not _at_ her...but rather _for_ her. Her heart skipped a beat at the sheer impossibility, the compassion of it, even as he seemed to round on Alphinaud. “You see? I _told_ you we should have done more, pushed harder. Diplomacy, politics, they just play at it, Alphinaud; it’s all lip service. The only thing those _bastards_ understand is a lance embedded in their face.” He cut off with a sharp sigh, taking a drink and mumbling against the cup. “No more than they deserve, either.” Her eyes had widened at his empassioned tirade, but a light hand on her arm brought her attention to Alphinaud, who merely shook his head slightly. Sorin clearly had an axe to grind with the Empire, still while his concern for the Domans was altogether unexpected, it was by no means unappreciated. After a while, he set the cup back down on the table, seemingly lost in thought for a moment, then spoke again in a more controlled manner. “And what of your people, Lady Yugiri?” She took a deep breath.

“At present, they are on a ship anchored in Vesper Bay, flying borrowed colors.” She paused for a moment. “Many of us were complicit in the rebellion, or are kin to those who were. They will not come ashore until I send word that it is safe to do so.” Sorin looked across to Alphinaud, who nodded at the man.

“Urianger contacted me via linkpearl to explain the strange occurrence of the Domans’ arrival. By that time, however, Lady Yugiri had already departed for Ul’dah, and so I endeavored to meet her in the one place a foreign dignitary would be sure to visit.” Beside him, Yugiri nodded.

“I sought an audience with your rulers, but was summarily refused.” Alphinaud scoffed beside her.

“The lords of Ul’dah are not wont to entertain foreign refugees without suitable...encouragement, sadly.” Yugiri nodded, hanging her head for a moment.

“Yes, I understand. Mayhap I was foolish to expect otherwise, but our supplies run low and we have young ones in urgent need of care.” She turned to look at Alphinaud directly, then. “I have seen the tents outside the gates, however, and the alleyways as you led me here. We are not the first to seek asylum, nor will we be the last, I am sure.”

“Surely the Waking Sands can spare supplies,” Sorin said quietly, his gaze leveled at Alphinaud. “It may be no grand fortress, but it still plays host to the majority of the Scions’ forces. Can we not convince Urianger to aid Lady Yugiri’s people?” Alphinaud grimaced, but nodded.

“While I _am_ certain we can spare some amount of supplies, the Waking Sands is by no means equipped to take in the amount of refugees Lady Yugiri has brought from Doma. Still, we will of course do everything we can to aid them.” Yugiri smiled, looking back and forth between the two men.

“You have my deepest thanks. Truly, this is the first moment since we left the Doman shoreline that I have felt some small measure of hope. We Domans are not a people to rely overmuch on the kindness of others, though my efforts to enable our self-sufficiency seem to have met with little progress thus far.” Alphinaud hummed thoughtfully beside her.

“Be that as it may, Ul’dah is no friend to Garlemald. Your tale would stir the hearts of many men and women here, of that I am certain. The sultana and the Syndicate will not be so easily swayed, but I shall see that you are granted an opportunity to plead your case.” Yugiri jolted slightly in surprise, while across the table Sorin chuckled.

“He said, with all the subtlety of a morbol in heat,” the man added before taking another drink, bringing an annoyed scowl to Alphinaud’s face. Yugiri barely heard him, however, her attention focused on the elezen, and the lifeline he had so willingly tossed her.

“This is within your power?” she asked, her tone clearly conveying her disbelief. Alphinaud nodded.

“Despite my companion’s jeers,” he started, with a glare in Sorin’s direction. The man put his hands up in mock surrender, giving Yugiri a glimpse of the myriad small scars that laced his forearms, but the wry smile remained on his face. “I _do_ have the ear of certain influential individuals. I’m sure that with the right words in the right places, they can be persuaded to manage you an audience, at the least.” Hope swelled within her breast, and she pressed her hands to her thighs, bowing slightly in his direction.

“I am in your debt,” she whispered.

“No,” came the equally-quiet reply from across the table. Yugiri raised her head, peering across to see Sorin with his arms folded in front of him on the table, his head shaking slightly. “You owe us nothing, Lady Yugiri. For all I poke and prod at Alphinaud’s pride, he has the right of it. It would be an easy thing to do, for one of his talents.” He glanced over to nod at the elezen, who returned the gesture, a smile on his face, before returning his gaze to her. “But more importantly, it’s the _right_ thing to do. I’ll not have it said that Sorin Korasta or the Scions put a woman in need into their debt just by doing the right thing on her behalf.” He leaned back then, bringing his arms up to cross in front of his chest. He glanced over at Alphinaud with a smile. “Besides, Y’shtola would likely give me a tongue-lashing that would fair burn my ears from the sides of my head.” Alphinaud chuckled, balling a fist politely in front of his mouth, and Sorin turned back to Yugiri. “And I like my ears where they are,” he finished, smiling warmly at her. She returned the gesture, for all the good it did behind her mask, and nodded in understanding. A long moment passed between them, and was broken when Alphinaud clasped his hands together decisively, standing from the table.

“Very well then, I shall be off to have the right conversations with the right people. Sorin, can I rely upon you to keep Lady Yugiri company until I return? I should not be gone overlong.” Sorin chuckled in reply.

“I daresay she needs no chaperone, Alphinaud. She’s perfectly capable of defending herself. More so than most, I would wager.” His gaze fell back upon her, the appraising look back in his eyes, and she understood. He had been sizing her up since the moment she’d walked into the Quicksand, and had seen right through her unarmed facade. Alphinaud, for his part, appeared shocked by the news, likely having thought he was dealing with a diplomat not dissimilar to himself. Yugiri met his gaze and nodded slightly.

“Sorin...speaks truthfully,” she admitted reluctantly, then turned back to meet the man’s gaze. “I understand today was to be a day of respite for you; I should not like to intrude where I am not desired.” Sorin’s eyes opened wide for a moment, his hands spreading out in front of him in apology.

“Oh, no that isn’t it at all, Lady Yugiri. You’re very much desired,” he replied, then seemed to realize what he’d said, a slight flush creeping into his cheeks. “Ah...no, I didn’t say that right. I meant...your presence, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it at all, I’m happy to keep you company.” Yugiri felt a smile creep onto her face at watching the mighty warrior flounder at basic conversation, and after a moment he sighed, glancing over to the elezen. “Shut up, Alphinaud.” The young man put his hands up in surrender.

“I said nothing, my friend, I assure you.” Sorin only glared at him in reply.

“Yes, yes. Go have your conversations already, will you?” The elezen chuckled in reply, giving Yugiri a slight bow that she returned with a dipping of her head before turning and leaving the establishment. She returned her attention to Sorin, who was eyeing her inquisitively, and she tilted her head slightly in confusion. “Are you alright?” he asked her, quietly, once Alphinaud was out the door. Her brow furrowed in confusion, then relaxed.

“Yes,” she said with a soft sigh. “Although the journey was taxing, as you may expect, and we were turned away flatly at several ports, I feel at last I may _finally_ be gaining ground in this endeavor, thanks to you and Alphinaud.” She had stressed the word with all of her exasperation that had built in the time since leaving Doma behind, and he smiled weakly at hearing it, then shook his head softly.

“No, I mean...physically, are you alright?” She paused, uncertain how to respond, and he quickly spoke again to clarify. “During our conversation, you regularly shifted your weight from one side to the other. It was subtle, but it was there, and you don’t normally see that unless someone is favoring an injury in one of their legs.” He held his hands up in defense. “I don’t mean to pry, I was just...concerned for your well-being, if that make--” he stopped at her quiet laughter, the sound lilting through the distance between them as she brought a hand up to cover her mouth, a gesture completely unnecessary but habitual. She composed herself after a moment, smiling warmly at him as she replied and wishing dearly that he could see it.

“I assure you, I am perfectly well in that regard, but I thank you for your concern all the same.” She paused for a moment, then decided to confide in him. “There’s a…” she gestured aimlessly to her left leg, then glanced around them before speaking again. “I am possessed of a tail, Sorin.”

“Oh,” he replied simply, relaxing immediately, and she chuckled lightly once more.

“Though I am sure it is quite unlike those seen in Eorzea, so I keep it...out of sight.” A wave of shame passed over her, though she knew not from where. She wasn’t hiding herself because of a discomfort over what she was, but rather out of courtesy to the people of these lands, a desire to not worry them as she walked their cities. Still, it gnawed at her, until Sorin interrupted her train of thought with his reply, spoken quietly.

“That must be uncomfortable for you; I’m sorry.”

“I am not,” she replied quickly. “Nor do I wish for you to be, Sorin. Men are wont to fear the unfamiliar, this we all know from experience.” She looked around them then, at the myriad races that comprised the Quicksand’s patronage. “We seek only to spare the people of Ul’dah, or any other nation we may visit, unnecessary disquiet.” She looked back to him and smiled, though her mask got in the way yet again. “I assure you I hide myself not in service to some subterfuge, but rather to keep the minds of those among whom I walk at ease.” Her statement seemed to alleviate his concern for her, his posture relaxing once more to take full advantage of the chair’s backing, and he nodded in understanding.

“Then I shall stop pestering you with my concerns, for all of which I’m sure you already have equally-understandable solutions.” He smirked at her, and she nodded her head slightly.

“For one in my position, such thoughtfulness is more a necessity than a luxury, but I thank you for your concerns all the same.” She paused a moment, shifting in the seat once more to reposition her tail. It groaned at her in dull pain from having been restrained as it was, and behind her mask she winced slightly. Sorin’s eyes darted downwards for a fraction of a second, but she was sure he’d caught the maneuver, standing almost immediately.

“Have you had an opportunity to see the Sapphire Avenue Exchange, or are you only just arrived in the city?” If he had seen through her facade before, she saw right through his now. She could tell him up and down a hundred different ways that she was fine, but he had seen how it bothered her, and lacking the ability to inquire further about her wellbeing without seeming rude, he resolved instead to have her no longer seated. That same warmth spread in her chest again, and she smiled behind her mask as she rose from her seat with a shake of her head. 

“I arrived in the city but hours ago, and made directly to the sultana’s chambers to ask after an audience. Alphinaud led me here, but the streets we took seemed rather quiet, or at least as quiet as a large city can be.” He chuckled at that, walking around the table and waving for her to follow him.

“No, that sounds about right. If you were walking with Alphinaud, things were bound to get incredibly boring incredibly quickly.” His face twisted up in mock introspection for a moment. “It’s almost as if he has a gift for it.” She chuckled lightly, and he smiled back at her. “Come on, I’ll give you a proper tour of the city. It’s the worst of the three by far, but at least it’s something.”

_“...to get you off of that chair,”_ she heard the implied rest of the sentence in his voice. She fell into step beside him, only pausing for a moment when the thought came to her mind.

“Should we not remain here lest Master Alphinaud return to find us having absconded?” Sorin chuckled, reaching up to tap at his ear.

“He can reach me anytime he needs to; which lately is more than I’d prefer,” he replied, grumbling the last bit. He gave her that warm, genuine smile once more. “Care to talk a walk?” Her feet were moving before her mind caught up to them, falling into step beside him once more, and for a moment the monumental task on her shoulders was washed away by the simple acts of kindness from two brand-new friends in a foreign land.


	2. Chapter 2

**\- 2 -**

Yugiri Mistwalker had been trained from the moment she’d chosen the path of the shinobi to be wary of just about everything in the world. Every turning corner, every obscured shadow, could hold a threat of varying degrees, and so over many years she had carefully honed her senses to seek out that which others would pass by. Her mind she had trained similarly, to see the potential threat in every glance of another’s eyes, every slight gesture of movement. In her dogged pursuit of martial perfection, she had eschewed the conventional comforts that others might take for granted: a quiet life, a warm home and hearth, solace in the arms of another. In her position, few enough people even spoke to her, much less touched her in any way, and so while some may have thought physical consolation a difficult vice to give up in the name of the lifestyle she led, it had come rather easily to Yugiri. 

Which was why Alphinaud’s slight touch on her arm in the Quicksand had sent a quiet panic shooting into her head for a split-second, why Sorin’s gentle direction on the small of her back as he guided her through the much larger crowds of the Sapphire Avenue Exchange had sent her head momentarily spinning behind her looking for an attack, and why the now-outstretched hand of the hawker who owned this particular stall was causing her to wince slightly as she stared at it. Even had she not been who she was, made the choices she had, Eorzean culture seemed far too focused around...touching...a concept that was difficult for her to accept in stride. Beside her, Sorin seemed to notice her hesitation, and reached across quickly between them, taking the man’s hand and shaking it once, vigorously.

“Our thanks, ser,” he said to the man with a smile, which the hawker returned, albeit with a mask of slight confusion on his face as he looked between his two customers. For her part, Yugiri managed to shake free of her petrification, bowing slightly to the man before stepping away. Sorin walked beside her and slightly ahead now, his hand not having made for her back again as he now carried a rather sizeable crate of supplies; a fact for which she was silently grateful to the kami. She was sure the gesture was an entirely harmless one, likely just part of the polite nature of a host in Eorzean lands, but it unnerved her all the same, and she had no idea how to even broach the subject with him without sounding a nuisance. He led her along for awhile, every now and then casting a look over his shoulder to ensure she was still there, and offering a friendly smile when he found that she was. He didn’t try to speak with her, for all the good it would have done, as the entire avenue was awash with the sounds of conversations of all volumes, light music playing from several different places, and shopkeepers calling out bargains to attract potential customers. She turned her head to take in the area, the sights and colors and  _ people _ all mingling in the relatively confined space, and for a moment she was distracted by it all, nearly running into Sorin’s side as he turned to take her down a much quieter side street. The sun was blocked from entering into this small space, and so they walked for a long moment in the shade before he turned his head to speak.

“The merchants out there can drive a hard bargain, hells some of them are outright crooks, I’ll be the first to admit it,” he paused with a chuckle. “But they’re decent enough people, all things considered.” He held her gaze as they walked, and her mouth worked at something to say, but she wasn’t sure exactly what he was getting at, and so he beat her to the punch. “If...you’re worried they won’t sell things to you because of where you’re from…” he trailed off, leaving her to interpret the rest of his statement, and she shook her head quickly.

“No, I assure you it is nothing of the sort. I am simply…” she paused, wincing for a moment at how best to put things, “...having some difficulty understanding a fair few Eorzean customs that I had not anticipated.” One of his eyebrows quirked up in reply, and he slowed to a stop, turning to face her. His smile was still there, but had weakened into an almost apologetic mask.

“If I’ve done anything to offend, I apologize, my lady.” She raised her hands defensively.

“No!” ‘ _ Yes!’ _ her subconscious mind screamed at her, remembering how strange and...different...his hand had felt when it had perched lightly upon her spine. She shuddered for a moment at the unfamiliarity of the whole thing, then pushed away the mental intrusion. “Not at all. It is simply a matter of...I just fail to understand…” she tried a few times, then sighed in frustration, her hands balling into fists. “Pray tell me, why do countless social interactions in these lands require  _ touching _ ?” Sorin made a noise somewhere between a cough and a snort, his eyebrows rising at her outburst.

“I, ah...I’m afraid I don’t take your meaning…” he replied warily.

“The physical contact,” she reiterated. “Alphinaud touches my arm to get my attention in the Quicksand, you guide me through the crowd with a hand on my back, the shopkeeper expects us to clasp hands to signify the end of a transaction…” she trailed off, shaking her head slightly and taking a deep breath. “I apologize, it was not my intention to upset or offend. It is rather unbecoming of me to arrive here, a stranger in a foreign land, and  _ immediately  _ take umbrage with local customs, however strange I may find them. Pray forget I said anything at all.” She lowered her gaze, feeling slightly embarrassed, but lifted it once more at Sorin’s single surprised chuckle.

“Huh,” he said quietly. She glanced up to see him peering above him, directly into one of the stone walls that comprised the alleyway, as if lost in thought. A long moment passed, and he nodded. “You know, I had never really given that idea much thought, but I suppose you’re right. I imagine it’s a bit as if someone were to inform you that you breathed too quickly. Despite never having thought about it beforehand, afterwards it would likely be all you think about...” He paused for a moment, then looked back to her, a wry smile on his face. “We really do touch for just about everything, don’t we?” He shook his head with another chuckle then, and then seemed to draw a deeper meaning from her disquiet. “Does Doman custom differ wildly from ours in that regard, then?” She nodded her head slightly, relief at being understood warring with the nagging feeling that she was being overly sensitive and possibly offensive to the land he called home.

“It does, at that. Family and loved ones notwithstanding, we rarely touch one another in common situations.” She shook her head once more, eyes narrowing behind her mask in frustration with herself. “Please, Sorin, I implore you to forget I made mention of it. It is, after all, simply a cultural difference; one with which I must ad--”

“Intimacy,” he mumbled, interrupting her. She met his eyes again, though he seemed to see through her, thinking about what she had said. He shook his head after a moment, seeming to come back to his senses, and hefted the crate of supplies to get a more comfortable grip before smiling down at her. “That’s the issue, right? Touch of any kind is a far more intimate thing where you’re from, whereas here it’s not treated as such?” She paused a moment, then nodded. Sorin shrugged, then chuckled again. “Then, my lady, that’s all you needed to say.” He tossed his head in the direction they’d been walking, and she followed along, breathing soft sigh of relief. He turned over his shoulder then, the grin that she had already learned to be tell-tale of an impending snarky comment in full display on his lips. “Rest assured, from here on out I shall handle of the vile handshaking, that it may trouble thee not a single moment more.” She laughed lightly, shaking her head as they walked.

“For what better guardian could a poor maiden in danger of being accosted by Eorzean customs ask?” she shot back, and smiled when she received a booming laugh in reply from him. They walked along for a while, her asking questions about the buildings and people they passed, and him answering as best he could. She quickly realized he was not nearly as learned as Alphinaud, but when he didn’t know the answer to anything, he had the entertaining quality of  _ creating _ one on the spot. It quickly turned into a game as they walked the streets of Ul’dah: she asking a question, him giving a very seriously-delivered answer, and her attempting to decipher whether or not he had just lied to her. A calm washed over her as they walked together, a peace she had not felt in a very long time, and as they stepped out onto another main street, she recognized the intersection. “I’ve been here before,” she said, looking around at the quiet avenue with a few people milling about. Sorin nodded.

“Yes, Alphinaud would have brought you along this road to deliver you to the Quicksand.” Realization struck her then, and she stepped up beside him.

“Then we have arrived on the complete opposite side of the city from the Exchange.” He nodded, his brow furrowed in confusion at her question. “You needed not carry this all the way across the city. You had mentioned an aetheryte network?” He laughed quietly, then shrugged.

“Truth be told, I’m glad for the exercise. Besides,” he added with a warm smile for her, “I was in excellent company, and had I not stayed with you, you would never have learned about the Great Shortening that befell the giant peoples of ancient Lala Fell.” He clicked his tongue, shaking his head with a somber expression. “Tragedy, that. They used to be so damned  _ tall _ …” She shook her head, but a wry smile played across her lips behind her mask.

“ _ Somehow _ , I feel as though that particular ‘great tragedy’ would not be found in any Eorzean historical texts I choose to examine,” she drawled, and he smiled again, shooting a wink across to her. The gesture sparked a sudden tightness in her chest that vanished as quickly as it had come, and she raised a hand unconsciously, placing it there for a moment before shaking her head slightly. “I am curious to what end you have carried these supplies across the city, however. That is, if you can answer that without spinning a fanciful tale.” He chuckled in response.

“And here I thought you enjoyed them,” he said, the words drenched in feigned dismay.

“You will note that I made no claim to the contrary, ser,” she replied, placing a hand on her hip. He laughed again, then looked down to the supplies he carried.

“Well, truth told, although we Scions all agreed to a day of respite, that was never really in my plans. With the Waking Sands in nearby Vesper Bay, I find myself in Ul’dah regularly enough that I’ve made a few contacts here among the populace. Whenever I return, I try to help them out, get them the things they need.” Yugiri tilted her head slightly in confusion.

“What kind of contacts does the esteemed Warrior of Light require within one of the cities that owes him and the Scions so much?” Sorin shook his head.

“Require? None, as far as I can tell.  _ Want _ ? Well, that’s a different matter.” He looked away for a moment, seeming to consider something, then looked back to her with a smile. “I had planned to be here, doing this exact task, before we’d even met. But since you’ve given me the honor of your company, would you like to go with me to meet them?” He paused for a moment, as if attempting to read her facial expression through the opaque mask she wore, then continued. “If not, the Quicksand is, as you well know, just down the road; I can meet with you there in about twenty minutes and we can wait for Alphinaud together.” She looked down the street, just barely making out the doors of the inn from where they stood, then met Sorin’s gaze again.

“I would not want to intrude…” she trailed off, and he shook his head.

“It’s nothing as serious as all that, Lady Yugiri, you’d be welcome to continue accompanying me. But either way, the choice is yours.” She paused for a moment, his patient expression awaiting her reply as he slightly shifted the crate he held, and then nodded her assent.

“Then I should like to remain with you,” she replied, adding on after a moment with a feigned gravitas. “I believe I have verily  _ suffered  _ through a good number of false historical facts in order to conduct this cargo safely to its destination; it would be a sincere waste to not see it through.” Sorin smiled, then began to walk across the street, Yugiri in tow. As they moved, she quickly realized exactly where he was heading, the very same alley she had peered into during her walk with Alphinaud. As they entered into its shadowy confines, he slowed his step, her own senses heightening instinctively to detect potential threats. 

Sorin seemed perfectly at ease, however, nodding to and greeting the various passersby as they moved through a veritable maze of tiny streets and side alleys, before finally coming to a stop before a nondescript wooden door. Yugiri gazed upward, counting at least six floors to the narrow stone building that had not aged well, and silently wondered at the state of its residents. She imagined the answer were she to speak the question aloud would a resounding ‘ _ not well _ .’ Sorin began to reach out to knock on the door, but the crate shifted uncomfortably in his arms and he had to duck suddenly to catch it. Yugiri stepped around him, reaching up to rap her own knuckles against the door, and he smiled at her, nodding his thanks before the door opened a crack, revealing a cautious face with sharp orange eyes and a head of hair the same color. Two fur-covered ears sat atop the head, presently laying flat against it in suspicion.

“Stole these from a Brass Blades caravan,” Sorin quipped as the pair of eyes slid off of Yugiri and onto him, relaxing slightly in recognition. “You interested in some hot property?”

“Depends,” the voice called through the door, a clipped speech but one that held a small amount of mirth. “How many did you have to take down to come by this treasure trove?” Beside her, Sorin grinned.

“‘Bout six, they put up a decent fight though, so I’d count them as eight all told.”

“Only eight?” the voice asked, barely holding back laughter now. The face disappeared from the crack, the door opening wide to display its owner. He was a miqo’te, with darkly-tanned skin and a thick bushy tail that swayed back and forth as he folded his arms across his chest. He wore a plain green robe and a smirk crossed his face as he stared at Sorin. “You know my policy is ‘ten dead or no deal,’ stick-thrower.” Sorin laughed beside her, and after a moment the miqo’te did as well, stepping aside to wave them both in. He nodded to Sorin as he passed through the doorway, and gave Yugiri a warm smile as she followed. She bowed her head slightly to him in thanks for his hospitality, and he shut the door as Sorin placed the crate on a nearby table, stretching his arms out afterward. He turned then, grasping the miqo’te’s forearm in a greeting, and he chuckled a bit as he looked at their interlocked hands. “What?” the miqo’te asked, and Sorin shook his head, glancing over in her direction.

“Have you ever noticed that we touch each other for just about everything?” The other man’s eyes narrowed in confusion, and Sorin removed his hand, waving away the thought. “Nevermind, I’ve had some interesting conversations lately.” Behind her mask, Yugiri smirked, though she folded her own arms across her chest and shook her head slightly at him, only making his grin a bit wider in the process. “Lady Yugiri, this is I’Pasha Tia,” he said, gesturing to his contact, who gave her a polite bow, his hand pressed to his chest. “I’Pasha, Lady Yugiri of Doma.”

“An honor, my lady,” I’Pasha said, smiling again as he stood. Yugiri bowed to him in reply.

“As it is mine, ser.”

“Lady Yugiri has been accompanying me around Ul’dah this afternoon, and wished to see where I was carrying all of these supplies.” He crossed the small room to clap I’Pasha on the shoulder. “I’Pasha is a healer and an alchemist of great skill. He takes what I bring him and helps treat those who live ‘beneath the sight of the Ul’dahn elite,’ as it were.” I’Pasha nodded at the assessment, and Yugiri smiled beneath her mask.

“Truly a noble endeavor, and one worthy of great respect.”

“Ah, you flatter me, my lady,” I’Pasha replied. “I merely seek to do what I can. Sorin’s the one out there slaying anything that even looks at Eorzea with a hint of malice.” He crossed the room then, rifling quickly through the supplies and nodded excitedly. “This will be a great boon, my friend. Thank you, truly.” Sorin shook his head in reply.

“I wish I could do more. How are they holding up?” I’Pasha paused at the question, before shaking his head slightly.

“The regular illnesses yet remain, though with this I’m sure we can treat them well enough. But something altogether...different...has haunted this area of the city as of late.”

“Different how?” Sorin asked, pulling over a nearby chair and offering it to I’Pasha, who accepted with a tight smile and a nod of thanks before sitting down. Sorin leaned against a nearby door frame, his arms crossed and an intense look upon his face. Yugiri recognized it from when they had spoken in the Quicksand, and watched as she made her way over to lean against the far wall. I’Pasha shook his head.

“Truly, I am not sure what the cause is, only that it began to show itself when the troops returned from whatever operations the Alliance was conducting against the Empire recently. It’s possible it was contracted from contact with the enemy, but I can’t be certain. Either way, it has since spread to the people of this area; we’re seeing maybe four or five cases a week, and none of the cures I’ve tried have been able to stop it.” Yugiri looked to Sorin, who nodded in understanding.

“Is there nothing I can do to help? What are the symptoms like?” I’Pasha shifted in the chair, his tail swishing slowly in thought as he folded his hands in his lap.

“It appears very much like a common illness at first: headaches, a deep cough, intense lethargy. Oddly though, after a day or two, the symptoms all disappear completely, as if the patient never had any illness at all…”

A streak of ice shot its way down Yugiri’s spine, her eyes shooting open in recognition of the description. She remembered hearing of the wave of illnesses that had torn through Doma upon the Empire’s initial invasion, and before her mind had caught up with her mouth, it had already begin speaking softly.

“...but the symptoms return two or three days later, much worse than before.” Both men turned to her, Sorin with an eyebrow raised, but I’Pasha with outright shock on his face.

“Y-Yes...that’s correct,” he whispered.

“One or two days after that, the patient begins bleeding from the ears. Blindness slowly follows, and then…” She looked back to Sorin, whose own eyes had widened now as well, and shook her head slightly.

“Just so,” I’Pasha replied quietly. “Forgive me, Lady Yugiri, but you seem to have first-hand experience with this particular malady…” She nodded, pushing away from the wall and coming to stand next to where he sat at the table.

“A similar wave swept through Doma when the Empire first invaded. Your theory is accurate, insofar as whatever the illness is, its origins lie within Garlemald.” She spied a small piece of paper nearby, and pointed to it. “If I may?” I’Pasha nodded eagerly, passing it to her along with an inkpot with a quill standing upright in it from a different nearby desk. Yugiri began to scribble down notes that she recalled from healers who had treated the disease, but paused just before the end. “You will require sprigs of…” she trailed off, knowing the herb’s name in her native land but not what they called it here. She set the quill down, gesturing aimlessly with her hands as I’Pasha watched with narrowed eyes. “It grows fairly tall, in fields near the villages. It has a long stem, with deep purple petals and a white...protrusion...from the top.” She paused, searching the miqo’te’s face for any sign that he knew what she was talking about, and seeing nothing. After a moment, though, he brightened up, holding up a finger before rising and crossing to a large cabinet near where she had been standing before. He beckoned her over with a hand, then opened the doors to reveal row after row of herbs and seeds.

“Do you see it here?” he asked, and she narrowed her eyes as she scanned the shelves. After a moment, she found it, pointing to it with a small sound of triumph.

“That is the one, though I know not its name in these lands.”

“Althyk Lavender,” I’Pasha said over his shoulder to Sorin, who hummed in understanding. I’Pasha closed the cabinet then, crossing back to the table and reading over the instructions she’d written. “And this will alleviate the illness?” he asked with barely-contained hope. Yugiri folded her arms tightly around herself, shaking her head.

“I...am not certain, ser. To have the truth told, I am no healer nor alchemist; these notes are merely what I could glean from conversations with those more skilled in the arts.” I’Pasha shook his head, a smile on his face as he turned back to face her.

“No, it’s an incredible help. Even if inaccurate in its entirety, you have given me a thorough foundation upon which to research a true cure. I am in your debt, my lady.” He took a small step back and bowed deeply to her, clasping his hands in front of him as he rose again in thanks. She gave a small one of her own, and Sorin chuckled behind her.

“What a nice thank you,” he said. “Not even an attempted handshake.” She turned her head over her shoulder to reply, but before she could speak, I’Pasha snorted, drawing both of their attentions.

“Of  _ course  _ not. The nations of Othard are well-known by the learned among us to be less physically expressive than those of Eorzea. A  _ handshake _ ...Twelve above, Sorin, put down your sharpened stick and read a book sometime, will you?” Yugiri grinned behind her mask, turning her head around to see the wide-eyed shock plastered all over the man’s face, after a moment giving way to unbridled laughter that quickly found its way to I’Pasha and Yugiri as well. It lasted for a long moment, and when it ended Sorin merely shook his head, pushing off of the wall and nodding to I’Pasha.

“We’ve got another engagement to get to, but let me know if you need anything else.” The miqo’te nodded, a warm smile on his face, and the two men shook hands before Sorin led Yugiri out of the small home and back into the darkened pathways of the Ul’dahn slums. He paused for a moment, staring up into the sky, and Yugiri looked at him, a small smile on her face, before he shook his head and sighed. He turned his gaze down to meet hers then. “Lady Yugiri, you continue to impress.” She felt a heat rush to her cheeks, thankful for her mask, and shook her head lightly.

“It was mere fortune that I possessed the information Master I’Pasha required. I am only glad I could be of assistance to him, with the important work that he performs for those in need.” Sorin nodded, then chuckled as he began to walk away from the house, Yugiri following beside him.

“You know, if you keep this up, one day I’ll have people asking me for historical facts about ‘Lady Yugiri Plaguesbane’, and I’ll have to make things up on the spot. If you think about it, your good deeds are really just making more work for me, it’s  _ very  _ inconvenient.” He looked across to her with a grin, and she smiled beneath the mask.

“Well, in such a case I would say the best course of action would be to ensure that we know enough about one another that you can safely dispense with any fabricated tales outright. I believe that would make  _ far  _ less work for your historical narrations, would you not agree?” He laughed again, a soft but sincere one, and met her eyes steadily as they made their way back toward the Quicksand.

“I think that sounds like an excellent idea, my lady.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like to use italicized sections for flashbacks / past scenes, in case anyone is unfamiliar with that approach.
> 
> Also, I'm attempting to do as much research as possible to ensure I'm not writing anything that's completely wrong or impossible by canonical standards, but please let me know if I make a mistake!

**\- 3 -**

“I might remind you,” Alphinaud said quietly from where he walked beside Sorin, “that of the three nations that comprise the Alliance, Ul’dah is by far the least beholden to you.” Sorin rolled his eyes, but nodded along with the elezen. “Limsa holds you dear as one of their own, not to mention your involvement in their military structure, and the Elder Seedseer and her people feel tied to you by way of your chosen profession. Yet ‘twas only through my cordial relations with the Flame General and the widespread tales of your deeds that I was able to secure Lady Yugiri this audience…” he trailed off, and Sorin looked over and down to find his sharp eyes awaiting Sorin’s own. The man furrowed his brow in confusion.

“What exactly are you getting at, Alphinaud?” The young elezen sighed softly, shaking his head.

“General Raubahn is an honorable man, the sultana a kind and understanding woman, but the Syndicate...they are unscrupulous masters of commerce, and will seek any advantage. Your persona will hold little sway over them, and they may try to...exploit the situation to their advantage.” Sorin pulled his gaze away from Alphinaud then, casting it forward to where Yugiri walked alongside the royal guardsman. She seemed at ease to the untrained eye, but he could see the tension held tightly in her shoulders, the way her hands slightly flexed and relaxed as they swung lightly at her sides, and a tightness gripped his chest, his eyes narrowing in resolve.

“We must protect her and the Domans,” he said quietly. Beside him, Alphinaud chuckled.

“Did you not say directly to me that she needs no chaperone, that she is fully capable of defending herself?” Sorin shook his head, still looking forward.

“In a fight, yes. But if what you say is true, and I’ve little reason to doubt your knowledge of these things,” Alphinaud reeled slightly at the praise as if slapped, but allowed him to continue, “she isn’t walking into a fight, but rather an ambush. One orchestrated by an enemy with which she is entirely unfamiliar, at that.” Alphinaud hummed in agreement beside him, nodding his head.

“Well in the very worst case scenario, she could refuse their terms outright. There  _ are _ two other cities in the Alliance with whom we may yet attempt negotiations. Sorin winced beside him.

“Perhaps, though Gridania is ever-vigilant against the travelers and adventurers that pass into the Twelveswood, much less a large contingent of refugees. And Limsa is…” he shook his head at the many memories that rushed through him in an instant. “...not a place I would recommend resettling them.” He turned his head back to Alphinaud then, a weak smile on his face and a shrug in his shoulders. “It may be home, but that doesn’t make it a warm one.” The elezen returned his pained smile, then nodded.

“In that case, we should endeavor to think of an alternate solution, though nothing springs to mind at the moment.” He lowered his voice still further as they crested the last small flight of carpeted steps, and stood before the large pair of door. “Regardless, I must trust you to follow my lead in this meeting; just as your lance wreaks havoc upon the field of battle, I too have my strong suits, foreign to you though they may be.” Sorin chuckled at that, nodding and extending an arm to gesture him forward.

“Very well, Alphinaud, I have your back.” the young man smiled and nodded decisively to him, walking ahead of Sorin and following Yugiri and her escort into the large chamber as the doors before them opened. He moved ahead quickly to stand beside Yugiri, and upon noticing him there she cast her gaze over her shoulder to find Sorin. He gave her an encouraging nod, but remained behind, standing at ease as he took in the room and its occupants. Most were lalafell, as he supposed was to be expected, with the sultana herself seated at the far end of the table. The Flame General, having escorted them after entering the chamber, now moved to take a seat on her left, and nodded slightly in Yugiri’s direction to grant her leave to speak. From his vantage point, Sorin could see the slight heave of her back as she took a deep breath, then stepped forward to speak.

“I, Yugiri of Doma, am honored to meet you at last, Your Grace, General, and distinguished members of the Ul’dahn Syndicate.” Around the table, heads bobbed in greeting, and she continued. “To mark this auspicious occasion, I should like to present to you the finest treasures our humble nation has to offer, in testament to the gratitude I possess at being granted this audience.” She paused, looking down and away for a moment before steeling herself once more. “Alas, the circumstances which have brought me here today have divested me of both time and dignity. I come before you as a pauper, in direst need of aid, to request that you grant my people asylum.”

The sultana nodded toward her. “I, Nanamo, seventeenth in the line of Ul, welcome you to our city. Be at ease, Lady Yugiri. While master Alphinaud returned to beckon you to this meeting, I took the liberty of informing the others gathered here of the tale of your misfortune.”

“And misfortune it is indeed,” the Flame General added, his voice rough as it called out from across the room. “The people of an imperial-occupied land, rising up to cast off the shackles of their damnable oppressors…” he shook his head for a moment. “As a proud son of Ala Migho, believe me when I say I both understand and sympathize with your efforts, Lady Yugiri. Bravery, when met with defeat, is a vile concoction for one to swallow, a fact we both know only too well.” She nodded in his direction, and after a moment he took a deep breath and continued. “Those who survived, how many do they number?”

“More than two hundred souls huddle within the cramped confines of our own galleon’s hold. Yet this figure accounts for but one of a number of ships which escaped the purge.”

“And the others?” The question came from one of the lalafell seated across from Raubahn. He was a dark-skinned man with a thick white moustache that all but obscured his lips. 

“The other vessels in which we fled our homeland carried similar numbers, although I have not been presently able to account for all of them. We were eight ships in total, though only six arrived with mine own in Vesper Bay. I hope that the remainder will arrive shortly, though lately I have dared not confide in baseless hope, as I am sure you will all understand.” Around the table, nods of understanding came in reply, the moustached man placing a hand to his heart and bowing slightly in condolence to her. “Pray understand, distinguished members of this council, we do not beg a boon, but propose instead an arrangement. I am informed that many of you are captains of industry, business owners in need of skilled and dedicated labor. We would serve, as soldiers or tradesmen, until our debt is repaid.” A slight pause hung in the room.

“What are the Syndicate’s opinions on the matter?” Raubahn asked, looking around the table. The negotiations continued along for quite some time at that point, and while Sorin was glad to see them giving serious consideration to Yugiri’s plea, a sinking feeling pressed into his stomach as time progressed. The man who had asked her about the rest of the refugee fleet seemed overwhelmingly in favor of granting the Domans sanctuary in exchange for their assistance in helping rebuild the city, but many other members of the Syndicate seemed at odds with his point of view. Sorin caught them casting suspicious looks at the heavily-concealed Yugiri in between bouts of debate, and irrational anger welled within him. Who were these pompous men and women, rich beyond anyone’s imagining, to decide if she was or was not  _ worthy _ of their concern? Who were they to pass judgment on the entire group of refugees for want of coin over compassion? 

He stewed in anger for a long moment, shaking his head in frustration. If only Yugiri and her people could be settled without the need of involving any of the three nations, without beholding them to the political strings that would surely be attached. Somewhere remote, but secure enough for them to rebuild. Somewhere far from the political movements of the Allia--the thought struck him as if delivered by a warhammer to the chest, and he stumbled a bit at the familiarity of the words he’d heard Alphinaud himself use to complain not three months prior. Away from the city-states, remote but secure, isolated yet accessible. He grinned then, stepping forward to stand beside Alphinaud, who wore the same pained expression that had been on his own face until mere moments ago. He leaned down slightly, eyes still on the council members as he whispered.

“We don’t need them,” he said, earning a confused look from Alphinaud. The elezen shook his head for a moment.

“I don’t understand, did you not just finish telling me all of the reasons why Ul’dah is the only nation that could potentially take them in?” Sorin nodded, then replied.

“The only  _ nation _ . If only there were a place where no nation held sway,” he whispered with a bemused tone in his voice, finally allowing his gaze to connect to Alphinaud’s. “‘A place far removed from the political posturing and nonsense of the Alliance’s key members,’ I believe is how a comrade of mine once put it.” Alphinaud’s eyes widened at hearing his own words spoken back at him, then looked away for a moment to consider it before nodding sharply.

“Twelve strike me for a fool, I don’t know how I didn’t think of it before…”

“It’s a fair distance, along dangerous roads” Sorin continued, eyes returning to take in the members as the debate swung slowly but steadily out of Yugiri’s favor. Alphinaud nodded.

“Then I would imagine it’s a good thing Lady Yugiri has the support of the Warrior of Light and the Scions of the Seventh Dawn.” Sorin grinned. “Mor Dhona is a hard land, devoid of many creature comforts. The work there will be difficult, of that I have no doubt.” Sorin cast his gaze over to where Yugiri stood resolute, though he knew for certain she had sensed the shifting favor of the conversation as well as he had. She stood her ground regardless, however, and a respect for her rooted itself deeply in his heart.

“If they’re anything like Yugiri, I don’t think we need to worry about them balking from leading a tougher existence than most. Besides, the Scions will be there to help, and the leaders of Revenant’s Toll would be more than happy for the added hands, I would think.” He brought his eyes back to Alphinaud’s, expecting to find a thoughtful expression on the young man’s face, and his brow furrowed in confusion to find a wry smile and a knowing look there instead.

“Just ‘Yugiri’ now, is it?” he teased in a quiet whisper. “My, but aren’t you getting so close, and so quickly!” Sorin glared down at him.

“ _ Really _ ? Right here, right now?  _ This _ is what we’re doing?” The elezen chuckled, waving away the conversation apologetically.

“I think it a fine idea, if it appeals to  _ Lady _ Yugiri.” Sorin did not miss the emphasis, and sighed as he stood back up to full height, awaiting the end of this already overlong, by his opinion, farce of a council meeting. Minutes seemed to stretch for hours, the council unsurprisingly voted not to accept Yugiri and the Domans, and the sultana, Raubahn, and the supportive lalafell with the moustache all made their sincere apologies before the three of them were escorted from the chamber. Back on the walkway outside, Yugiri let a heavy sigh escape her.

“I suppose I should have expected no other outcome, though it yet pains me to hear it delivered.” She raised her head then, bowing toward them. “I thank you for your aid, my friends, and but apologize that I was unable to use it to full advantage.” Sorin smiled, Alphinaud shook his head, and Yugiri tilted her own slightly in confusion at seeing them so unperturbed.

“Lady Yugiri,” Alphinaud began, “Sorin and I have conspired to create a potential solution to your problem, if you would be amen--” he stopped suddenly, eyes looking upward and into the distance as a small chime sounded in his ear. “Ah, my apologies.” He looked across to Sorin, who nodded in understanding. “I shall leave Sorin to share the details with you, and return you to Vesper Bay regardless of your decision. My lady,” he finished with a short bow, then stepped away quickly to take the call. Her eyes found Sorin’s face then, wide behind her mask, but he merely smiled at her warmly for a long moment before speaking.

“You know, I was thinking about our conversation earlier, and it strikes me that in the wake of this meeting, you’ve simply no further need of me. Then, the thought occurred to me: how would we go about learning more of one another as we’d planned if we simply parted ways just because some self-important shiteheads decided the Doman people aren’t worth their time?” He folded his arms across his chest, and despite her complete confusion, his warm smile drew one to her lips as well.

“I...am not entirely sure where your thoughts are leading,” she confessed, and he chuckled lightly.

“Yugiri,” he said quietly, the lack of her polite title making the utterance of her name seem somehow  _ deeper _ . A slight tightness in her chest bloomed once more at hearing it, and she began to wonder if something weren’t well and truly wrong with her. It was a sensation she had not felt before, but he spoke again before she had time to think on it overlong. “How would you and the Domans like to be the Scions’ new neighbors?”

* * *

Yugiri wandered among the bookshelves of the Waking Sands’ library, the hour late and most of its residents fast asleep. Before departing, the tall elezen man Urianger had directed her to this far corner of the building when she had mentioned an interest in historical texts, an attempt to familiarize herself with this new land, and she had been keen to take him up on the information. Row upon row of tomes greeted her as she walked slowly among the shelves, and she cast a final furtive glance at the door she’d closed behind her before pulling off her glove and running her bare fingers along their spines as she moved. Some had been read only recently, while still others maintained a layer of dust about them, and it was one of the latter she selected on a whim, drawing it carefully from the shelf and crossing to sit in a plush, oversized chair with a slight wince.

From the moment Sorin had made her his offer, she had ridden a high of hope and excitement for her people, one that not even the strange birds Sorin had hired to ferry them back to Vesper Bay could erase. It had not been the most comfortable ride of her life, and her thighs still ached from the unfamiliar way she’d had to hold herself in the saddle, but the landscape around them, and Sorin’s distracting conversation, had done much to lessen her notice of it. A soft smile found its way to her lips unconsciously, and after a moment she realized she had been staring right through the page of her book, so lost in thought was she at all he and Alphinaud had done for her. She shifted in the chair, tucking her legs up underneath her to give her concealed tail a respite from being stretched along her leg, and attempted to begin reading again, quickly losing focus once more.

They had returned to Vesper Bay in the late afternoon, the various canopies and overhangs of nearby buildings a welcome reprieve from the sunlight that had flooded their entire journey there. Yugiri had set straight to work, returning to the galleon to deliver the good news, and the reaction she’d received...she could never have expected the surge of gratitude and pride in her that the Domans had expressed. She had not been well-known among the people before the insurgency, merely a retainer of Lords Kaien and Hien, but to see how they had looked at her with such awe, one might have thought she was their king himself. She had led the sick and wounded off of the ship and into the willing and waiting arms of the Scions, who tended all as best they could, and then was ushered into the outpost itself to meet the remainder of Sorin’s colleagues.

Urianger she recalled having met when they had first docked at Vesper Bay, and while his mannerisms of speech continued to prove troublesome to her understanding of what he said to her, the others seemed just as kind and welcoming as he had initially. They had all greeted her respectfully, save for the hyur man with the short white hair, who had extended a hand to her in greeting. Sorin, who had followed her into the chamber, immediately stepped forward to shake it in her stead, earning a small chuckle from her, a confused look from the man, and a round of quiet laughter once Sorin had explained. She would have shaken his hand, awkward though it may have been, but she had still been grateful for the Warrior of Light’s timely intervention and delicate explanation to his compatriot of a fact the others seemed already aware. Time had seemed to pass quickly then, plans made for the journey to Mor Dhona and the route they would take to get there. Yugiri was to travel ahead with Alphinaud and the majority of the Scions’ leadership in the morning. Urianger would remain behind as the steward of the Vesper Bay outpost, and Sorin would accompany the first wave of her people, those hale and hearty enough to make the journey, to ensure they arrived safely. She had briefed those few among the refugees who had been fighters in the conflict, and who would by necessity become leaders for the rest, and had introduced Sorin to them personally before other matters had pulled her attention away. When she had returned to check up on how he was getting along with them later, she had instead pulled up short, having found him sitting on a stone bench, four of the children she’d brought on the galleon standing in a semi-circle before him, all staring at his massive lance on the ground before them.

_ “Go on,” he said, an air of feigned reverence in his voice. “If you can pick it up, you can keep it. That was the deal, right?” The children looked between each other, eager grins on their faces, and one by one they reached down to try and heft the weapon. Yugiri smiled behind her mask, stepping to the side to lean against a nearby pillar as she watched. _

_ “It’s so heavy!” one of the children groaned as she attempted to pick up its weight. It budged maybe an ilm before her arms gave out, and she dropped it back to the ground as Sorin chuckled, his arms folded across his chest. _

_ “You’re telling me, I’ve got to carry the thing around all day!” he shot back at her playfully, earning a laugh from the children in reply. He smiled as they each continued to try and lift the weapon, a genuine gesture that sent warmth creeping through her chest again, and after a while he waved them all back as he bent down himself. “Alright, since it’s clear none of you are  _ worthy _ enough to take up my weapon, I’ll just get it mys--” He paused, eyes wide, as his hand closed around the haft of the lance. He feigned weakness, miming at pulling upward with all his strength while leaving the lance on the ground. The children giggled in delight, and he looked around at them with a look of mock terror on his face. “I...I promise, this has never happened before!” he cried out, only making them laugh harder, and a slight grin threatened to break his veneer of panic. “I think,” he began slowly, meeting each of their gazes in turn, “I might need some help with this one...” _

_ They rushed back in, all of them placing their hands on the weapon and lifting upward with all their might. Sorin smiled then, pulling slowly upward to lift the lance even as he pretended to groan with exertion and effort. After a long moment, the weapon was lifted into the air, and the children all cheered as Sorin returned it to its place on his back and bowed to them politely. _

_ “My thanks, friends. You have done me a great service this day, and I won’t forget it!” Around him, the children bowed back politely in return, before a call from one of their parents across the square sent them all running back to the group of refugees awaiting medical attention. Sorin followed after them with his eyes, shaking his head, though the smile remained on his face. After a moment he stood, intending to make for the Waking Sands, when his gaze met her mask and widened in surprise. His cheeks reddened slightly as he chuckled, crossing the distance between them. “Lady Yugiri, pray tell me you were not witness to my incredible shame, just now?” She tilted her head in consolation, clicking her tongue softly before responding. _

_ “Alas, I fear I most certainly was. Whatever would the good people of Eorzea think if they knew their vaunted Warrior of Light relied on the kindness of Doman children to be able to even heft his own weapon?” He grinned at her then, shrugging. _

_ “I don’t know, maybe if they thought me a little less powerful, I’d actually get a break from some of the more  _ inane  _ tasks they think up for me to do.” She laughed lightly then, and they began walking back toward the Waking Sands, the soft smile on her face and the warmth in her chest not seeming to abate until long after the moment had passed. _

The memory faded, and Yugiri shook her head slightly to dispel the last remnants of it, looking back down at the page before her with a sigh as she realized she had, yet again, failed to actually read it. The muscles in her face ached slightly, and she realized she had been smiling again, a gesture she had seemed to do more in the past two days than she had in many months beforehand. 

A small wave of guilt passed through her at that thought. What right had she to feel happiness or contentment, when across the sea her people still languished under Imperial rule? For all the good she had done for them, her people were still refugees, the last remnants of a crushed uprising. She knew that it was not a matter of if, but rather of when she would return to Doma and rekindle the rebellion once more alongside the Rijin family. Until then, she needed to focus on keeping her people safe, and finding  _ allies _ , not simply friends. The cold pit of guilt and duty settled deeply in her stomach, and she let go of the mirth she felt, choosing instead to look back down at the pages of the historical text, and actually read them this time.

* * *

It was quiet in the Waking Sands, the silence almost deafening in its own right as it blanketed the myriad halls and corridors. At this late hour, most of the outpost’s permanent residents were either asleep or ensconced within their quarters with a good book, and that thought gave Sorin yet another reason to have a care where he stepped as he traversed the hallways. The primary reason was of course the laden metal tray he carried, and he was careful not to make its contents rattle lest they disturb anyone trying to sleep.

Sorin had never been a good sleeper, a fact that he mulled over in his head as he walked toward his destination on the far side of the Sands. Even as a child, his parents had often found him up at odd hours of the night, fully awake and ready for something more exciting than laying in his bed and staring at the ceiling. As a young man, a litany of itinerant jobs and endeavors throughout Limsa had all attempted to wear him out enough to easily fall asleep upon returning to home or camp in the evening, but none had ever truly succeeded. Sorin often wondered if he simply required less sleep than other people, or if there was something well and truly wrong with him. Still, as he came to his destination, reaching out with his hip to open the closed door that stood in his way, he pushed the thought away, resolved to consider it another time. 

Urianger had told him where he had directed Yugiri, and after the long day they’d had, he had figured a bit of tea might not go unappreciated by the Doman lady. Actually  _ making _ the tea had, however, proven a bit more cumbersome. He had stood in the kitchenette area for a long while, unsure of how to properly make any hot drink that wasn’t a pot of Limsan-style coffee, and his face must have betrayed his concern, for Y’shtola had laughed lightly upon seeing it as she entered.

_ “Pondering life’s great mysteries late into the night, are we?” her voice lilted across the open air, shocking him out of his thoughts. He gave her a weak smile as he turned to meet her sharp gaze, shrugging after a moment. _

_ “When was the last time you made tea?” he asked suddenly, and she chuckled. _

_ “Not four hours’ past. You?” He grimaced, and the smirk on her face only deepened. _

_ “A bit longer, I admit.” The miqo’te gave a single, sharp laugh in response. _

_ “Pray tell, how  _ much  _ longer, Sorin?” _

_ “Ah...years?” he finished with a pained expression, and she smiled mischievously. _

_ “I wonder at that,” she mused as she slowly rounded the small island between them, her fingers trailing along its surface. “A group of refugees appearing on our very doorstep, their mysterious leader, a soft-spoken woman in  _ dire  _ need of heroic rescue, and our dear champion attempting a culinary endeavor well-known to be commonplace in her homeland, but which he himself has not ventured in  _ years _ …” she trailed off, fixing him with one of her knowing stares. He chuckled lightly in reply, shaking his head softly. _

_ “I mean only to provide a measure of comfort in the midst of this maelstrom in which they find themselves.” _

_ “They?” Y’shtola replied quietly, the pointed question poking at him regardless. “So you plan to make enough tea for every refugee both within the Sands and without? Quite the task for such a late hour.” Sorin’s brow furrowed in irritation. _

_ “Fine. In which  _ she  _ finds  _ herself _.” He sighed roughly, crossing his arms as he turned to her. “Is what I’m doing so very offensive to you, or do you simply think my intentions somehow malicious?” Her eyes had widened a bit, but the smile remained on her face even as she leaned back and folded her own arms across her chest to mimic his posture. _

_ “Neither,” she replied simply after a long moment. “I merely mean to express my concern for you. For your current...state, in the wake of the recent pressures and demands you’ve experienced. You may no longer be the wide-eyed adventurer I encountered in a La Noscean cave, but you are yet my friend, and I would have you keep my counsel, should you still feel you require it.” A long moment passed between them, and Sorin sighed, dropping his arms and shaking his head. _

_ “If I still feel I require it?” He snorted a single laugh. “Y’shtola, you’re probably the smartest person I know, outside of Urianger maybe, but with how the man talks, who can really say for certain what’s knowledge and what’s just flowery verbiage?” He grinned at her, and she laughed lightly. His grin faded to a warm smile after a moment. “Yes, I still require it. I feel hard-pressed to think of a day on which I won’t.” She nodded then, a small smile taking root on her face though her eyes remained focused intently. _

_ “Then my council is thus: have a care with your words, and an even greater one with your actions. Words are an Eorzean’s stock-and-trade. They are used to inspire, to deceive, and are as potent as weapons in these lands. Across the sea, in Doma specifically, that is less so the case. Lady Yugiri and her people will not be won over by impassioned speeches or grand diatribes. They will look to your actions, to the choices you make, in order to determine the kind of person in which they have placed their faith.”  _

_ She stepped forward then, moving between him and the counter, her fingers moving deftly as she prepared the teapot and reached to take the water he’d had heating on the small stove beside him. “Your actions, our deeds, thus far already speak highly of you, but they had no direct effect on these people. Now that they are in our care,  _ your  _ care specifically,” she added with a pointed look over her shoulder, “they will be watching intently. So,” she concluded, pouring the kettle of hot water into the teapot as she gently stirred the leaves within. “Have a care with your words, and an even greater one with your actions, lest you find yourself burned most severely.” She gestured at him with the now-empty water pot before placing it back on the counter. He smiled down at her. _

_ “Thank you, Y’shtola,” he said quietly, and she nodded in reply. She moved away then, walking back around the island before raising a finger to point at the metal tray he’d prepared. _

_ “Also,” she said with a grin, “Domans do not generally take sugar in their tea. ‘Tis a purely Eorzean custom, and one I detest, at that. Thus, I would recommend leaving  _ that  _ behind.” He followed her finger to the small pot of sugar he had mindlessly added to the tray, and reached out for it, setting it back on the counter with a decisive  _ clack _. She chuckled lightly then, turning her pointed finger into a gentle wave of her hand. “I have prepared you as best I can, my friend. Have a care.” She turned then, stepping quietly out of the kitchenette and back into the shadowy halls of the outpost at night. Sorin shook his head with a smile, then gathered up the tray and made for the opposite hallway. _

He took a breath as he entered the room, opening his mouth to whisper a greeting, but the words failed to come as his eyes caught up to the scene, and his lips instead twisted up into an amused grin. She sat in a large, overstuffed chair, her legs tucked underneath her and an open book on her lap. Her head, still covered in that ominous mask, had lolled to the side, pressed gently against the curved and padded side of the chair’s back as she slept. He crossed the room quietly, setting the tray down on a small end table beside the chair, and looked down at her for a long moment. He reached out to rouse her, then paused, staring at his own outstretched hand and remembering the things about which they’d spoken. He withdrew it after a moment, casting his gaze about the library until it settled on a thick blanket folded neatly across the back of another nearby chair. He picked it up and unfolded it before gently draping it over her sleeping form, stepping back to admire his work with a soft nod before turning to leave. On the way out, a thought occurred to him, and he stepped back into the library, searching quietly for a long while before finding an informative tome on Othard and its surrounding regions. Tucking the book under his arm, he cast one last glance toward Yugiri, laughed quietly to himself, and closed the door behind him.

* * *

It was the light filtering in through the nearby stained-glass window and settling warmly across his face that roused him to waking, grumbling to himself as the last vestiges of sleep fled lazily from his mind. He remembered having taken up a chair in the foyer of the building in which to read the book he’d procured from the library, but the light and soft presence that pressed all around him was unfamiliar. Opening his eyes while stifling a yawn, he shifted in the chair and froze immediately upon noticing the blanket that had been draped across him. For a split-second, the idea to thank Tataru for her considerate act flickered through his mind, until he realized that he very much recognized the blanket. His eyes darted around his immediate vicinity before coming sharply to rest on the table beside his chair. A small silver tray sat there, its contents a single cup of tea and a folded letter. A smirk found its way to his face, and he reached out to hover his palm over the porcelain cup. Feeling no heat, he dipped a finger into the liquid and chuckled upon finding it completely cold. He flicked the tea from his finger, and picked up the note to read, smiling and shaking his head as he finished it.

_ Sorin, _

_ I am not entirely sure when last night I fell into slumber, nor when you made time to visit and bring me such a thoughtful gift, though I regret that I was unable to receive you properly. We are to depart this morning for Revenant’s Toll, likely long before you read this note, if Urianger’s information about your sleeping habits (or lack thereof) is to be believed. I have told my people as much as I know and have learned of you and the Scions, and they will follow your lead when on the road. Pray keep them safe, Sorin, I entrust their well-being to you without hesitation. I hope to see both they and you in Mor Dhona with all due haste, and that the next cup of tea we share is, at the least, a bit warmer than the last. _

_ Kami guide your steps, _

_ Yugiri _

“Ah, ser?” a voice called out to him, and Sorin looked up to meet the gaze of its owner. He was a taller man, dressed in the same foreign garb as the rest of the Doman refugees, but with a thin blade sheathed in a scabbard strapped to his waist. Sorin smiled at the man, casting off the blanket and standing to bow slightly to him. A small smirk flitted across the man’s mouth before he returned the gesture. “I was told by Lady Y’shtola to wake you when our people were prepared to depart. We are ready to travel on your order, ser.” Sorin leaned back down, picking up the book he’d been reading and using Yugiri’s note to mark his place before closing it with a  _ snap _ .

“Alright then,” he replied with a nod. “Let’s get moving.”


End file.
